“Yeah, I think so—”
“Well, how’s it grab you?”
Vince rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, reached in his shirt pocket for a cigar. Didn’t grab him at all, not at all, but he supposed he’d have to go along. “But he’ll probably be over at Bruno’s house—”
“We checked that out,” Robbins said. “They’ve got a long weekend coming up and apparently decided to spend this night at home, getting a good rest and winding up their private affairs.”
Vince tried to look amused. “I dunno, Ted said—”
“Whatsamatter?” Castle asked. “You Ted’s baby?”
Vince smarted. “No, shit, but—”
“Anyway, keep it quiet,” said Robbins, “but Ted’s in on this. You know how he feels about Himebaugh.” Robbins’ eyes were nothing but slits. Vince thought about the mayor and how he hadn’t had the nerve.
“Well, come on, Vince!” Castle shouted. When that man opened his mouth it really whammed out of there. “You game, goddamn it, or ain’t you?”
“Hell, I’m always game. Who else—?”
“Bring anybody you want. We already talked to Cheese Johnson and Georgie Lucci, and they’re coming. Anybody else you like.”
Cheese. Known the bastard for years and never knew anybody called him Cheese. Maybe one of these guys thought it up. “Okay. Where do we go?”
“Over to my place first,” said Castle. “We’ll oil up the machinery before. I’m at 701 Elm, first white house on the corner of Elm and Seventh. Seven sharp.”
“Okay,” said Vince, working up a grin around the cigar. Get a free drink or two out of it anyhow.
“Oh, and Vince, bring an old sheet.”
“Jesus loves me, this I know,
Cause ole Bruno tol’ me so!
Little ones to him belong,
His is short, but mine is long!”
sang old Cheese Johnson at the top of his goddamn funny nasal voice.
“Yes, Jesus loves me!
Yes, Jesus loves me …!”
bellowed old Vince and old Sal Ferrero and good old Georgie Lucci.
“Hey, you guys, can it! You’ll have us all in the clink!” hissed old Burt, but he was laughing, old Maury was laughing, everybody was laughing to beat hell.
“Ifn Jesus loved you, you wouldn’ talk thetaway!” slurred old Cheese. Vince giggled.
They stopped and staggered out of the car.
“This the place?” hollered Georgie. “Looks all dark.”
“Ssst!” That was old Burt the goddamn spoilsport. “Pipe down! We’re still a block away. We’ll walk the rest. Now look, you crazy bastards, calm down or you’ll spoil the gag!”
“Oh, Jesus Christ, boys!” moaned old Cheese, falling all over himself. “Don’t spoil the gag! Oh, Jesus!”
Arms over each other’s shoulders, they careened down the street. “Hey, wait!” That goddamn Robbins again.
“Maury, old buddy, call that fucking deacon off our ass, for God’s sake!”
Robbins laughed. “Shit, Vince, all I want is for you to get your goddamn sheets on. It’s no party without them.”
They paused for that business. Felt all stuffy inside. Vince thought he’d gag. Couldn’t find the damn eyeholes. Then two fingers nearly put his eyes out. “Got it now, Vince, old buddy?” That goddamn Castle had a voice carry to Singapore.
“Now, listen,” said Robbins. “Don’t forget the point is this: you guys are spirits from the other world, see, and—”
“Oh earthling Ralphus!” cried old Cheese Johnson, staggering around in hilarious circles. “We are spirits—”
“Hold it! hold it! You got it, but we’re not there yet. Now remember: you’ve come to pick Ralphie up and escort him to the spaceship.”
“Spayshit,” said Sal Ferrero solemnly. Castle guffawed. Sal got quieter and funnier the drunker he got.
“Tell him, above all, he’s not to wear any earth clothes, nothing, just a sheet, see, and then—”
“Sheetsie,” said Sal.
Robbins and Castle were laughing themselves sick. Old Burt could hardly talk. He was a lot nicer guy tonight. Maybe it just took awhile to get to know him. “And then you lead him right down to Main Street, and when you get him to city hall, you—”
“Shittyall,” said Sal.
“Jesus Christ!” howled the sheet that had old Georgie in it. “Sal, you’re a goddamn riot!”
“Riot!” affirmed Sal, and everybody broke up again.
Robbins hissed. “It’s right there, next house! Now remember: when you get him in front of city hall, you—”
“We pull off his sheet,” said Vince. Sure goddamn hard to breathe in this thing.
“You’ve got it!”
“Jesus, Vince!” cried the tall thin sheet with the silly-ass nasal voice. “You’ve got it!”
“But why ain’t you two guys wearing sheets?”
“Hell, he’d recognize our voices in a minute, Vince, spoil the gag. Look, see that hedge just over there? Me and Maury’ll wait behind that, watch how it goes. If you need us, we’ll be there. Now, go to it!”
The four sheets approached old Ralphie’s house.
“Damn, Sal, at least stand up right!”
“Riot!”
“Okay,” announced old Cheese, “watch this!” He picked up a handful of pebbles and flung them at a window. Himebaugh’s face appeared in it. “Light the torch!” Georgie struck a match to the torch, then lifted it flaming over his head. Old Ralphie’s eyes nearly shot right out of their sockets. Johnson lifted his elbows, shook the sheet. The others imitated him. Himebaugh opened the door a crack, poked out his terrified white face. “Oh earthling Ralphus! We are spirits from the upper worlds come to transport thee hither!” Except for the twang, it was a great fucking act. Himebaugh stepped gingerly out onto the porch, dressed in one of those funny Brunist nightshirts. “Our spaceship awaits thee!”
Vince’s line: “Come, friend! Makest thee haste!” Christ! stumbled all over the goddamn s-t's! “The Destroyer cometh!”
“B-but tonight?” whined the old guy. He was cracking all apart. Very different pose from what Vince had seen yesterday. “We thought — isn’t it—?”
“Well, our plans is got changed,” said old Cheese, ad-libbing it. “Now git your ass in gear, Ralphus!”
Himebaugh stiffened, eyebrows slid down off the top of his head. “I don’t know who you are,” he sighed, “but you’re wasting your time.”
“Tie ’em!” cried Sal. Georgie snickered. Vince had to piss.
“Listen, ifn you don’t git comin’,” hollered Johnson, sliding all the way back into his cruddy accent, “we’re gonna shag off without ye!”
Himebaugh shook his head wearily, went in, shut the door. Could hear the key working in the lock.
“Jeez, Cheese, it’s that goddamn hillbilly accent of yours,” Vince complained. “There ain’t no hillbillies in the other world, don’t you know that?”
“Whaddaya think we oughta do, bust in an’ git him?”
“Naw, what good would that do? Let’s go ask old Burt and old Maury.” Vince led the way to the hedge. Nobody there. “Why those goddamn sonsabitches!”
“Fairweather friends,” said Cheese.
“Left us in the fucking lurch,” said Georgie.
“But all is not lost!” announced old Sal, lifting off his sheet and producing a fifth of bourbon. “I borrowed this from good old faithful Maury’s liquor cabinet.”